Seven Days
by Altra Palantir
Summary: Seven days stranded on a planet can do strange things to a person T/A


Seven days. It had been seven days since the away team had been stranded in the barren desert on the seemingly uninhabited Menshara class planet. Seven days since an unknown alien had stolen the shuttlepod. Before the Enterprise had been able to send down a shuttlepod to retrieve them, a sandstorm had flared up, and their communicators had gone dead. As they made their way up the rocky mountain, Captain Jonathan Archer looked over at his companions. Trip and Malcom both looked like hell, and he assumed he did too, but T'pol looked worse than the three men by far. She hadn't slept all week, and it showed. She had kept watch against the scorpion-things that came out in the night, when the three humans couldn't manage to keep their eyes open. Archer felt horrible doing that to her. Vulcans could go without sleep for much longer than humans, but T'pol was definitely reaching her limit. The past two nights, he had tried to keep watch, and convince her to sleep, but he fell asleep not much past midnight, and in the morning, he knew she hadn't.  
  
"Sah, there's a cave up there, about thirty meters above us," Malcom said, stopping on an outcropping and calling back to the others.  
  
"Cap'n, it'd be high enough to keep them scorpion-things off our backs," drawled Trip.  
  
"T'Pol, what do you think?" Archer asked, turning back towards her.  
  
"It would be safe," she replied, sleepily.  
  
"All right then, Malcom, lead the way," he said. He made sure T'pol was in front of him before they moved on. With how tired she was getting, he couldn't risk letting her fall. They climbed a few more feet. T'pol stumbled. He caught her arm before she could fall. Putting his arm around her waist, he proceeded to guide her up the mountain.  
  
"Be careful, there," he whispered.  
  
T'pol looked at him almost gratefully, for a Vulcan. "Thank you," she said, not shying away from his touch. Archer knew she had to be about dead on her feet. He had expected a mild protest at least. If Trip and Malcolm noticed something strange, neither said anything.  
  
They reached the cave just as the sun set.  
  
"How 'bout Malcolm 'n me go an' get some firewood, Cap'n, while you two get settled in?" Trip asked, with a curious glance in T'pol's direction.  
  
Archer grinned good-naturedly, "Go ahead, knock yourselves out. Keep a look out for those scorpions, though."  
  
"Will do, Cap'n." Trip grinned.  
  
"I'm pretty sure the phase pistol hasn't gone out on us, sah. I'll keep it with me." Malcom replied, solemnly.  
  
Jonathan Archer looked down at his science-officer. She was beginning to nod off. He tried to lay her down gently, but her hands didn't seem to want to loosen their grip on his shoulder. He shrugged and leaned back, resting his head on the rock. They were both asleep before Malcom and Trip returned.  
  
"Look, commander," whispered Malcolm, setting down his pile of sticks much quieter than he had originally intended, gesturing towards his Captain and the Sub-commander. Archer was still leaning against the wall, T'pol curled up against his side.  
  
"Well I'll be… sleepin' like babies." Trip grinned, setting his pile down next to Malcolm's. "Now what're we gonna use to start this?" he asked, looking around the cave.  
  
Malcolm surreptitiously fired his phase pistol at the wood, when Trip wasn't looking.  
  
"I saw that, lieutenant," Trip scolded good-naturedly.  
  
"Did not," Malcolm replied, in the same tone. He cracked a rare smile, "I wish I had a camera."  
  
"Me, too. They'd prob'ly demote us t' crewmen… but gawd it'd be fun."  
  
Malcolm grinned, "yeah."  
  
"Well I'm turnin' in," Trip yawned, stretching out on one side of the fire.  
  
"Suppose I will too." Malcolm replied, and laid down on the opposite side. Both were fast asleep within minutes.  
  
  
  
T'pol woke up with the sunrise. Bleary-eyed, she surveyed her surroundings, her mind much clearer with the much-needed sleep. She found herself still lying next to Jonathan. All three humans were still asleep. She wrinkled her nose. Jonathan smelled like a human who hadn't bathed in a week, and she dryly realized that now she probably did too. That meant another stint in the de-con chamber, followed by a long shower in her own quarters as soon as they got back to the Enterprise. She needed to meditate, but for the first time, she found herself not wanting to.  
  
Ever since she had first come aboard the Enterprise, she had begun to feel at odds with the Vulcan High Command. When she had first met Jonathan Archer, he seemed to be quite hostile and irrational, not to mention as illogical as any human she had ever encountered. Yet, he had proven himself to her many times over, the first being when he risked himself to save her life during the shooting match with the Suliban. No Vulcan would have ever done that. Even she considered it illogical. Jonathan, she wasn't sure when exactly she began to use his first name, had a tendency to disregard both establish protocol and logic, in favor of his own "gut feelings." T'Pol would never admit it to him, but she admired his sureness of himself sometimes. He was strong, without having to deny any part of himself. It was a quality no Vulcan could ever have. Yet, he was rational, and intelligent, and as Commander Tucker would put it, "his heart's in the right place."  
  
Yes, T'Pol was forced to admit to herself that she was falling for Jonathan Archer. She could have easily attributed it to the Pon Farr, which she would soon be experiencing, but it was more than that. She admired him for more than his physical characteristics, or his position as Captain of a starship. She admired him as a person, and as a friend as well.  
  
With this realization came another emotion T'Pol desperately tried to suppress. Fear. She feared this emotion she was feeling, that she couldn't deny. She was afraid of what the High Command would do when and if they found out. She was afraid Jonathan wouldn't love her in return.  
  
She felt him stir. He sat up, stretched and rubbed his eyes with the hand that wasn't around T'Pol. He smiled.  
  
"Good Morning," he whispered.  
  
"Good Morning, Jonathan," T'Pol replied, the words out of her mouth before she could stop them. He grinned. Before he could open his mouth to say something, his communicator beeped.  
  
"Ensign Sato to Captain Archer. Captain, Can you hear me?" came the sound of the communications officer's voice.  
  
"We're here, Hoshi, and we hear you loud and clear. Can you locate our position?"  
  
"Aye, sir, you're about three hundred and twenty kilometers from where the shuttlepod was stolen," she replied.  
  
"And we got it back, too, sir." piped up Travis in the background.  
  
Archer chuckled, "Nice work, how soon can you be down here?"  
  
"About 45 minutes, sir," Travis replied.  
  
"We'll see you then, Archer out."  
  
Malcolm rolled to a sitting position and yawned, "What was that, sah?" he asked.  
  
"Wake Trip up, will you? We're going home."  
  
"Aye, Sah!" Malcolm replied eagerly.  
  
Six was about the limit for passengers in the Shuttlepods, but nevertheless, Hoshi and Travis both were on the shuttlepod that came to retrieve the four bedraggled crewmembers that stumbled down the hill. Hoshi grinned as she shut the door behind them, and sat down next to Trip.  
  
"Is it just me, or has something happened in the last seven days?" she asked, gesturing towards T'Pol's hand, which was firmly clasped in the Captain's.  
  
"Trust me, Ensign," T'Pol replied, much to Hoshi's dismay, "A lot can happen in seven days." 


End file.
